lights guide us home
by no white horse for me
Summary: the avengers try to tell Phil Coulson how hard his death hit them through a series of letters, and while they all miss him, none of them seem to miss him more than Natasha. oneshot. mild language


To Phil,

I signed the cards for you.

From Steve

* * *

Coulson,

What the fuck is wrong with you?!

Tony

* * *

Dear Phil,

He always knew your name was Phil. He was just jealous. Hope you're doing fine. I'm sorry about the cellist.

Sincerely, Pepper

* * *

Agent,

You were a good man and a brave soldier. I just wish you had been a bit smarter and waited for back-up.

Director Fury

* * *

To Agent Phillip Coulson,

I did not know you well, though I wish I had the chance. You interrogated me when I was trying to retrieve my hammer. You were particularly nice to me considering that most on your team thought I was a raging lunatic. And I will make sure that Loki pays for what he has done. I will feed him personally to the Bilchsteim if need be.

You will be okay. I will make sure of it.

Thor

* * *

Phil,

It shouldn't have ended the way it did, not for you. You were a good man, and now you're six feet under because you thought you'd be brave. You're a brave man, Phil Coulson, but I never took you for an idiot. That's normally Stark's end of the deal.

I guess you liked the gun. I examined it after they had pulled it from your hands. It was very powerful – perhaps if you'd pulled the trigger faster you'd still be alive. I dunno. It just seems like a stupid thing to do, go running into a battle that you probably shouldn't fight.

What the hell made you do something like that? Did you have a death wish? I probably shouldn't be yelling at you through a piece of paper, but I just can't help it. I keep thinking that if you hadn't have found the gun then you'd still be alive and kicking.

Sorry for venting. At least I haven't snapped anyone's neck this time 'round.

From Bruce

* * *

Phil,

I guess the only thing to say at the moment is congratulations. You are now a fully-fledged member of the Avengers initiative. Fury's pissed as at you. I'm not. You were a fool – an idiotic, empty-headed fool – for entering that fight alone. But you were a strong-headed fool.

You were right. Loki does lack conviction. And sometimes conviction is the one thing you need to win a battle. You also need a kick-ass gun, but Loki had a sceptre, which is kind of the same thing. Natasha keeps saying that you were an idiot because you died believing in magic. Her eyes are always red now – she told me that she had known you for 10 years and that you were like a father to her. No one really has the heart to disagree with her about the magic.

But she is wrong. You didn't die believing in magic. You died believing that the Avengers would win. And they did. Won fair and square, kicked Loki's demi-god ass. It's still surprising that he's still breathing. Clint's arrow was about to fly when Natasha knocked it aside. I swear, Bruce almost killed her. But she had a better plan – she sent Loki back to Asgard with Thor where he will live a lonely, desolate life in a cell.

Thor told me that he'd feed Loki to a Bilchsteim for you. I said that was cool. I haven't got a freaking clue what a Bilchsteim.

Welcome to the Avengers Initiative, Agent Phil Coulson.

Lots of love, Maria

* * *

Phil,

I kind of want to hate you. But I don't know how. You were my best friend, my wingman, my drinking buddy. You were there to help me with my relationships with Nat or whoever the hell else managed to reel me in. You always said I had a weakness for redheads, but maybe it was just Nat. You told me that you thought she was way out of my league when I first met her, remember?

And I broke your nose?

Stark's pissed – the tower was almost in shambles one night when he went on a rampage with the suit before Natasha managed to calm him down. It was actually one of the funniest things I've ever seen (you would have laughed anyway). They both just sat on the floor and cried. Nat was holding Stark and letting him cry while her own tears dripped into his hair. They were ignorant to anyone but each other for almost an hour. It was peculiar.

Steve and Bruce don't say much about you. Bruce hasn't lost control in a while, which is a bit strange. Steve just kind of sits and stares at the TV on TV night – Bruce and Nat started it when we first moved into Stark Tower – and he'll stay there for a few hours even after the TV's off, until Natasha goes down and drags him up to his bed.

It's funny, because even though she's probably the most destroyed out of all of us, she seems to be doing a whole lot of mending.

I'll see you soon, I guess. Try not to get too lonely without me.

Clint

* * *

Phillip Steven Coulson,

I hate you.

Natasha

* * *

Phil,

Nat's still pissed as. She can't stop crying either. But anyway. You were a good man, that's about as much as I can say. I didn't know you well, but you seemed nice and you really cared for your job. Pepper told me about the cellist. Her name was Mandy, right? Pfft. Mandy. What a boring name.

I think we all feel guilty, a little bit. But I think Thor's taking the brunt of the whole thing. Agent Romanoff hasn't spoken to him in about three weeks – he's hilariously confused. I'm pretty sure Banner told him why she's mad, which kind of gave the game away, but now he can't even bear to look the redhead in the eye. You can hear her crying through the walls of Stark Tower, you know? Or, at least, that's what Clint tells us at the breakfast table.

Nat's almost never at the table, and when she is she just sits and stares at her breakfast. One time – I think she had a god-awful hangover – she ate a piece of toast and vomited all over Tony's food. It was pretty gross, and Tony kicked her out of the dining room until she could manage to 'control her upchuck' as he put it graciously.

We'll all write soon.

From Steve

* * *

Coulson,

Still don't understand what would possess you to do something as stupid as that. Care to fill me in?

Stark

* * *

Agent,

You know, I keep thinking I see you out of the corner of my eye. It's stupid, but I think my bad eye keeps hoping you'll appear. I wish it would knock it off. It's pissing me off.

Fury

* * *

To Agent Phillip Coulson,

I must say that I feel terribly guilty. It was my brother's knife that killed you. But do not worry – Loki, in all his horror, is dead and gone, fed to the belly of a Bilchsteim. None of your colleagues know what that is – Agent Barton tried to…I believe he called it 'Googled' it, whatever that may mean, and /he almost threw the little light-up box out the window. You told me that you did not have Bilchsteim here. I would love to know what Agent Barton saw.

Agent Romanoff can hardly look me in the eye without bursting into tears. At first it was peculiar, but then Agent Banner told me that she blamed me for what happened to you (nobody can figure out why she is so torn up about it) and the whole thing became much clearer.

I am so sorry, Agent.

Thor

* * *

Coulson,

So, I broke my winning streak. I went almost a year and a half without snapping, and then Tony said something that set me off, the 'other guy' woke up and I broke about half the windows in Stark Tower. You always told me to keep control, and believe me I tried, but it was just so hard. Natasha calmed me down. She seems to be doing that to everyone.

Clint said that she's fried – she doesn't know what to do anymore, she doesn't know who she is anymore, she doesn't know what's happened. According to Barton, she cries herself to sleep at night, but Steve asked her about it once when everyone else was out, and when we got home Natasha was nowhere to be found and Steve had a broken nose and had lost about three of his teeth.

We learned not to ask Nat that question. Ever.

Clint, nutcase that he is, found the whole thing hysterical. God knows why, but every time he looked at Steve that entire night, he couldn't stop laughing. I reckon Steve would have blown his head to pieces given the chance. But it was pretty funny, I'll give Clint that.

Well, I'm thinking that you and I will be seeing each other very soon. Stay safe, don't do something foolish. But maybe you're in heaven and I'll go straight to hell. Seems like something that would happen to me. After all, I've murdered plenty of people.

From Bruce

* * *

Dear Phil,

There's not really that much left to say. And these letters are slowly breaking my heart, so I think this will be the last one, unless something exciting happens like the world is in major catastrophe, and then I'll write you again.

I'm sorry; Phil, but I just can't do this anymore.

All of my love, Maria

Phil,

You were my best friend. Just in case you had forgotten that. But even if you saved my life about 20 thousand times and helped me out of jail about triple that, if I ever see you again I will kick your ass for making Nat cry. Simple as that. You've known Nat for a little over 10 years, and you know that she'd rather be shot than let people see her cry. But she has, and she does. And when I get my hands on your skinny little neck I will wring it dry.

Just letting you know.

I'm fine – great actually. Everyone in the Tower is _except_ Tasha. She doesn't tell anyone, but I can hear her crying through the walls (Stark refuses to invest in thicker walls), her eyes are permanently puffy, she can hardly look anyone in the eye, she's losing about 5 pounds per week, which is really scaring me, and I found a beaten up photo frame in the trash the other day. It had once contained a photo of you and her in Stalingrad while it was snowing. The remnants of the photo were tucked under her pillow – turned out she had attacked them with a pair of scissors.

I really do hate you, Phil. But I really do miss you.

Clint

* * *

Phillip Steven Coulson,

I still hate you.

Natasha

* * *

Phil,

I can't do it anymore. I'm sorry. Oh, and Thor and Tony won't be writing anymore. Nor will Director Fury or Bruce. Or Clint. Come to think of it, none of the guys will be writing, only Natasha. Ha. Good luck with that one. It's a good thing she can't reach through paper and strangle wherever you are.

See you later.

Steve

* * *

Phillip Steven Coulson,

I wish I could hit you. Hard. Right across the back of the head. Or shoot you in the temple. Or the knee. Or the heart. Or the throat. It doesn't fucking matter to me where I put a bullet through you, I just want you to understand how much I miss you. And how much it fucking hurts. That's all. I just want you home. Everyone's walking on eggshells around me, like they're afraid I'm going to break or something (they're probably right, but they don't need to know that).

I miss you. A lot. Probably a lot more than I should. You were the closest thing I had to a father – you always protected me from everything, and you treated me like a daughter, and I loved you for that. I just wish I could tell you this. I wish I could have said goodbye to you before everything went all haywire.

Do you remember when we first met? I do. You dumped coffee over my head, and I pulled a gun on you? And almost pulled the trigger? You were awful to me back then because you thought Clint was breaking his alliance with SHIELD when he wasn't. I hated you. And then I remember you slowly started to like me, and I guess the feeling was mutual, but it didn't really show up until I took you and Clint to a bar after Budapest (a failed mission if I ever saw one) and Clint got so wasted that he couldn't sit up straight and you and I were arm in arm singing something. That was the best night of my life. It was back when I was innocent and young and not so much of a murderer, I guess.

I chopped up the photo of you and me in Stalingrad. It was horrible, having to sleep with you smiling at me, like nothing was wrong when in reality you're in a cardboard box waiting for the day when the funeral finally happens and you can move on and leave the rest of us behind.

That's part of what makes me hate you so much. Because you're leaving us trapped in a world where everything's havoc and insane and people are still picking up the pieces of their lives after Manhattan. Oh, Manhattan. What a day that was. You would have loved it. Aliens and arrows and sceptres and even Hulk made an appearance! It was fun. Except, well, Stark wanted to play hero and risk his neck. Moron.

I was fighting for you, you know. That day. It wasn't for me, or Clint, or Fury, or any of the other Avengers. Or to wipe my ledger clean by at least doing something good, something right. I don't really think you can wipe out all the red I have in my ledger. It was for you. All you. And if I was going to fight for you, I was going to win. You know that part of me – when I put my mind to something, I'm unstoppable. I miss you something terrible, Phil. Shit, I'm crying. Didn't even realize.

I miss you, dad.

I love you,

Tasha

* * *

**a/n: it always makes me smile when people review...so! this has been in the works for quite a while, and i've only recently just finished. and for those wonderful people who have read Double Decker, there will be a second chapter, this time about their dreams and whatnot. So, remember, review!  
no white horse for me**


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